“We shouldn’t make fun of him.”
“Why not? It’s not like he can hear us.”
“But it’s so sad.”
It kind of was, Taryn thought, but it was also really, really funny. Sam Ridge, all-star kicker and multimillionaire, had the worst luck when it came to women. If there was a femme fatale in a fifty-mile radius, Sam found her and fell for her. He’d experienced everything from a stalker to an ex-wife writing a near tell-all to having his girlfriend sleep with his best friends.
“I’m waiting for him to fall for a transvestite,” Larissa said with a grin. “Poor Sam.”
“I don’t get it,” Taryn admitted. “He’s smart and insightful. But when it comes to women, he can’t seem to find anyone normal.”
“What about you?” Larissa asked, her tone teasing. “Met anyone tempting?”
The question was meant as a joke. Taryn knew that. She rarely dated. She liked guys, she slept with them, but she didn’t get involved. There was no way she was trusting her heart or any part of her psyche to some man. Talk about stupid.
Except when Larissa asked her question, Taryn immediately thought about Angel. And thinking about Angel meant she wasn’t thinking about anything else and she couldn’t seem to make her mouth move to form the words What? A guy? With me? No way.
Larissa put down the frying pan she’d just unwrapped and stared at her friend. “Oh my God. What? You met someone? Who is he? Tell me everything.” Her big blue eyes widened. “Is he local? Like a single dad.” She sighed. “That would be so romantic. Some sweet guy with a couple of little kids. Like a car mechanic or maybe he owns a little grocery store and they live upstairs. He still misses his wife, but he’s ready to move on. Only I don’t know how you’re going to feel about the kids.”
Taryn stared at her. “You don’t need me here for this conversation, do you? A widower with two kids and a grocery store? That is not happening.”
Larissa’s shoulders slumped. “Why don’t you like him? He’s so nice.”
Taryn held in a scream. “There is no grocery store guy. You made him up. What’s wrong with you? Jeez. The only guy I’m interested in is a former black ops sniper with a scar like somebody slit his throat.”
Larissa handed her the frying pan. “I’d rather date the guy who owns the grocery store.”
“The one who isn’t real?”
“You always focus on the wrong stuff. So tell me about Sniper Man.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
Taryn starting putting plates and bowls in the cupboards, knowing that wasn’t going to be close to enough to distract her friend.
“There’s something,” Larissa told her. “You’re attracted to him.”
“Maybe. Yes. A little.” She sighed. “At least he’s a widower. That should make you happy.”
She’d learned that much at least. But it was hard to get information without telling people why she wanted it, and she wasn’t ready to tell the world that she thought Angel was hot.
“It’s something. But he won’t buy a grocery store?”
“Larissa, I beg you. Stop.”
Larissa smiled. “Everyone thinks you’re tough, but you’re really not.”
“I can be, just not with you.”
“Okay, this Angel guy. You’re dating?”
“Not exactly. We’re sizing up each other.”
“What does that mean?”
Taryn thought about Angel’s announcement that he was good at waiting. A little ripple of anticipation shimmied down her spine as she wondered when he was going to make his move. He was making her wait on purpose, and she respected that. He wanted the game to be intriguing...for both of them.
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “But I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
* * *
ANGEL PUT THE copy of the bridal magazine on the desk. Ford stared at him in disbelief.
“Just like that?” his friend asked. “Did you wake up thinking this would be a good day to die?”
“She’s engaged,” Angel said, grinning. “She’s wearing an engagement ring. I’m celebrating the moment.”
Ford held up both hands in a classic move of surrender, but Angel was feeling adventurous. Lately, he’d had the sense that everything was going his way. The answer to the Dirty Harry question of “Do I feel lucky?” was yes. He did. It didn’t matter that the movie had come out a year before he was born. He could relate to the character. When in doubt, a bigger gun usually got the job done.
Consuelo, their petite colleague, walked into the office. She looked at the magazine, then at the two of them.
“It was him,” Ford said, pointing at Angel. “He did it.”
Angel glanced at his friend. “Is that how things are now?”
Ford inched toward the door. “Law of the jungle, bro. While she’s feeding on you, I can make my escape. Isabel and I are trying to make a baby. I want to be around to see my kid grow up.”
Consuelo, all five feet two inches of muscle and determination, picked up the magazine, flipped through it, then put it back on the desk. She smiled at Angel. “Thanks. That was thoughtful.”
He shot Ford a “See?” look, then moved toward her. “I know you and Kent got engaged. I hope you’ll be very happy together.”
Consuelo stepped into his embrace and hugged him. When he drew back, she casually stepped to the side, grabbed Ford by the arm and flipped him onto his back. He landed on the floor with a thud. When he could breathe again, he sat up.
“Hey, what was that for?” he asked in a tone of outrage.
“For being cynical. You’re married and you should know better.”
Consuelo turned her back on him, picked up the magazine and headed for the door. “I’ll be back after lunch,” she called.
“It’s not even ten,” Ford grumbled as he climbed to his feet. “Why does she get to leave?”
Angel chuckled. “You want to tell her she can’t?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. Come on, we’ll head out, too.”
“Where are we going?” Ford asked, falling into step with him.
“To a nursery.”
“Baby or plant?”
“Plant.
